“You worry about nothin’. I’m your man, but I’m the fuckin’ Beast of Boston. No one touches you but me.”
She shook her head. “Iworry about you, O'Callaghan. Because without you, this life loses most of its value. Before the twins, it would have lost all its value.”
That’s what my Mam used to say to my Da. The past was comin’ too fuckin’ close to my future. I shook off the cold wind, and when I felt my wife shiverin’, I carried her back to the car.
The Ferrari was too conspicuous, so Fiona had bought a smaller car and set Georgia plates on it. She paid cash for it under the name Sherry Pop. Maeve had laughed and gave her a high-five. It was a character’s name in a romance book. I wondered how many times she’d done it before. We’d always left that part of the transactions up to her because she could come up with realistic soundin’ names on a whim. We knew why now.
Maeve held her hand out for the keys. I gave them to her without hesitation. She was one of the best fuckin’ drivers I’d ever had the pleasure of ridin’ with. While she drove us to a restaurant to grab breakfast, I slid my palm against her stomach. She glanced at me, then looked forward. Her expression was soft, like she was meltin’.
She parked out on the street, and I locked her hand inside of mine as we went inside. We were seated right away, but Maeve kept flickin’ glances around the restaurant. It was mostly older folks eatin’ eggs and porridge.
“Your eyes keep flickin’ around,” I said after the waitress took our orders.
A slow smile came to her lips. “The women in this place…they’re all staring at you.”
They were all over fifty, at least.
Maeve laughed, settin’ her juice down. “I bet they’re thinking to themselves…oh, to be young again!”
Her laughter came and went as we ordered our food and started to eat. She only ordered one plate, but I ordered two more for her—she was eatin’ for that many. She didn’t complain as she dug in with a single-minded focus.Eat. And eat some more.It made me ravenous for my own food to see her doin’ so well. I tasted every bite of it, then sat back and watched as she absorbed every last bite.
“Maeve.”
“Huh?” She looked up and blinked at me.
I grinned. “Good, my darlin’?”
“So good…I finished three servings of food.” She smiled at me.
I nodded. “There’s somethin’ I want to discuss with you.”
She set her last piece of toast down and wiped her hands. “Okay,” she whispered.
“I’m goin’ to sell the castle.”
She stared at me for a second. “What about—”
“I’m not goin’ to sell the cemetery part of it. That belongs to my family. Just the castle. I’ve had offers before. I didn’t want to sell then. The property meant too much to my Da.”
“Now?”
I shrugged. “He’ll be restin’ there forever.”
She studied my face. “I understand.”
I knew she would. I’d already spoken to Keenan about my wishes in the event somethin’ happened to me in this war. Before, everythin’ that belonged to me would have gone to Keenan, Fiona, and Henry. Parts of it still would. The rest would go to my wife and children. They would be taken care of for as long as they lived.
“Okay.” She sighed and looked toward the window, then back at me. I knew her shift in mood had nothin’ to do with talk about the castle, but about where we were headed. She didn’t want to discuss the impendin’ end to this story. “This is supposed to be a celebration, so…how about we call my dad and tell him about the twins?”
I dialed his number. He answered on the third ring. He sounded tired. Maeve made small talk with him before she put him on speaker and gave him the news. He became quiet. His voice was choked when he finally said how excited he was and started askin’ endless questions. When he was comin’ home was the main one.
Maeve told him soon. It was safer for him with the MacGregors. Oran didn’t expect him there, and MacGregor would spare no expense to keep Pauric safe. As I paid the bill, she told Pauric she was about to drive and that she’d call him later. I opened the door to the restaurant and Maeve stepped out. She was about to say somethin’, but her voice died when my eyes locked on two men lookin’ through the window of our car. Two men I’d searched for since I was ten years old and could never find.
One of the men had a spider tattoo on his neck. The other had a web.
“Cian,” Maeve whispered, shakin’ my sweater. “Cian.” I heard her, but the memories were assaultin’ me.
My wife bein’ snatched from my arms as she cries out my name for help.
